


Tearing Me Apart

by AAAAAGGGHH_IM_TIRED



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Crying, Double can cook okay??, Hugs, Mentions of Skull and Aviators, Omega and Vintage are siblings, Omega is concerned for Vintage, Vintage is smol and angry, double has a New York accent fight me, vintage needs to learn emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AAAAAGGGHH_IM_TIRED/pseuds/AAAAAGGGHH_IM_TIRED
Summary: Omega had always sat back and watched her brother throw himself into battles. It was an escape for him, just like it was for her...But then Vintage started to become Ranked, and Omega had to step in.
Relationships: Omega & Vintage (Splatoon)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Tearing Me Apart

Vintage arrived home late at night, just like usual. The sun had been down for a few hours, Deca Tower just barely closing up Ranked Matches, which lasted for a few hours longer than Turf. His Ballpoint Splatling was stored in its large case which Vintage held in his left hand. His right fumbled with the house key for a few moments before sliding it into the keyhole. The Ranked Conqueror unlocked the door to the X-Blood house, swinging the door wide open. The warm entryway was an intense contrast to the cool night. He inhaled the homey smells of the house. He got hints of garlic, tomatoes, and basil. Double was probably cooking again. 

“I’m home,” He called in his monotone voice, setting his weapon down to remove his Orca High-Tops. He placed the shoes right next to Omega’s Toni K. High Tops, perfectly aligning them with the end of a tile.

“Ey! Vinny welcome back!” Double entered from the kitchen. He was wearing a comical chef’s hat over his two-toned spikes and an apron saying ‘kiss the cook’. His namesake was slightly fogged up from standing over a boiling pot of pasta. Vintage rolled his ruby eyes at the outfit and nickname.

“Don’t call me that, Double,” Vintage muttered, his voice quiet but firm. 

“I’ll call you whatever I want.” Double waved a wooden spoon covered in tomato sauce at him, earning a glare from the Splatling main. “Anyways,” He turned back to the stove. “I’m making spaghetti and meatballs. I know you like that.”

Vintage hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He picked his weapon back up, carrying the heavy device to his room. He passed Omega who was sitting in the living room, watching some news broadcast on the TV. Her expression was mostly blank, but Vintage could see the fascination in her eyes, the same ruby ones Vintage had. Red was in her room, talking aggressively to someone on the phone. Probably got into another argument to a telemarketer, Vintage thought with a sigh. He dropped his weapon in his room, right into its place adjacent to his desk. He would clean it before bed just like he always did. 

It was habit. Wake up, play Ranked, eat lunch, play more Ranked, come home, eat dinner, clean the Ballpoint, sleep, repeat. That’s how it always was for Vintage. He decided that that’s how it would always be. He flopped down on his bed that he hastily made that morning. The simple dark blue comforter still smelled like that flowery laundry soap that Red always bought. He grabbed his phone, checking his stats on SplatNet. Like always, he got around 40 splats a match and won with a knockout. 

Vintage glared at his phone. 40 second knockout in Clam Blitz? You’re getting sloppy Vintage. He told himself. 40 whole seconds. What was wrong with him? His mind raced but his face stayed static. He remembered his father’s words from a decade prior. “Don’t let them ever know what’s really going on. That’s when they get the upper hand.” Vintage shut his phone off, slamming it down onto his simple wooden nightstand. He loathed that he still remembered his father and despised that he followed his small bit of wisdom so seriously. Sure, Omega had the exact same unreadable expression he wore, but she always seemed to lighten up slightly when they were safe within the walls of the X-Blood house. 

Vintage never removed the emotionless mask. Not even for his sister.

He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion of fourteen straight hours of Ranked set in. His forearms ached from carrying the heavy Ballpoint around Ancho-V Games in Clam Blitz, his legs throbbed from pain of jumping up and down Moray Towers in Rainmaker, his head hurt from the constant, annoying “BOOYAHS!” from that one team in New Albacore Hotel Splat Zones. He was ready to sleep. Ready to reset the cycle for the day.

He was just about to drift away, but Double’s thick New York accent rang through the house. “Yo, we’re ready to eat!”

Vintage sighed and sat up on his bed. He ran his hands over his eyes, he just had to hold out for another hour, then he could sleep. He rose from his bed, treading over to the door and turning the overhead light off on his way out. His sock-clad feet made no noise as he marched down the wooden stairs. His hands were shoved comfortably into the pockets of his Takoroka Nylon Vintage.

Vintage walked into the dining room. Double was chatting with Red as he dished up a few bowls of his cooking. Vintage would never admit it, but he loved Double’s cooking. Omega was already sitting at the table in her usual spot, tapping away on her phone. She barely looked up as Vintage took the seat in front of her.

“Hey,” Vintage lamely greeted. Omega made a small noise, informing her brother that she heard him. Vintage awkwardly drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to yawn. He wished he had brought his own phone down, so instead he settled for staring at the ceiling. 

“KACHOW!” Double Egg exclaimed, plopping a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in front of Vintage. He set a small bowl of grated mozzarella and parmesan in the middle of the table and sat down next to Omega. Red took the seat next to Vintage, already piling a ton of cheese into her own bowl.

Double leaned over Omega’s shoulder, who in turn shifted so she was facing towards Double and hiding her phone. “Ooh? Who ya’ textin’ Megs?” He teased reaching for her phone. She extended her arm, holding the phone as far away from him as she could. “Was it yer giiiiirllfriend?” He sang and poked her ribcage.

Omega rolled her eyes, but a small sky blue blush tinted the tops of her ears. Red cackled upon seeing Omega’s reaction. “No, it was Avi. He was asking if I could babysit the twins tomorrow,” She informed with a matter-of-fact tone. Omega pocketed her phone and began to pick at her pasta. “I said I could if you guys didn’t want to League tomorrow.” She looked at Vintage, her leader and little brother, expectantly.

Vintage shrugged, slowly turning his fork in the meal. “I plan on doing what I always do. You can join me if you want.”

Omega stared at her brother, her expression unreadable. “Guess I’ll be babysitting.” She shrugged and took out her phone to text the purple co-captain.

“What is it with you and those kids? I thought you hated kids,” Red asked in her hysterically high voice. She shovelled a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

“Avi needs me to take care of them while he and Skull-” Omega stopped mid-sentence, her eyes wide and mouth agape. 

Vintage sharply inhaled and shut his eyes. His fingers gripped his fork and the edge of the table so tight his knuckles turned white. He took a few deep breaths, slowly in and out before slowly opening his ruby red eyes to stare at his sister. His bowl cut hung in his face, shading his eyes.

“Vin, I’m sorry,” Omega apologized. “I forget things are… touchy between you two still.” She reached out a hand, to comfort him maybe, but decided against it and pulled it back to her lap.

“It’s fine, Omega,” He replied, but his tone didn’t agree with his words. 

Red and Double looked at each other, waiting to see if a nuclear explosion would happen. The table was tense, the X-Blood waited for somebody to speak and break the tension. Red took this as an opportunity to vent about her most recent minor inconvenience. 

“I hate telemarketers!” She shouted unexpectedly, making Double jump and the X-Ranked siblings to give her a strange look. “Like today, one called me offering me a water slide! A damn water slide!?”

Vintage tuned out Red’s ranting, staring at his barely touched meal. As much as he loved Double’s cooking, he had just lost an appetite for it. The mention of his former best friend and teammate made his heart sink. He regretted all of the things he had ever done to Aviators and Skull, but he could never apologize. No, if he did that would ruin his whole image. He was Vintage of the X-Blood, coddamnit! He had worked all of his life to get to the top, he couldn’t let guilt ruin that. 

He abruptly stood up, his chair scooting behind him with an unpleasant SQUEE! Without a word, Vintage turned on his heel and marched out of the kitchen/dining room. He shoved his hands into his pockets and climbed the stairs. He really needed to be alone.

Vintage closed his door behind him, not even bothering to turn on the lights. With a groan, he fell face-first onto his bed, burying his face in his soft, down pillows. He was exhausted, so why wasn’t his body letting him sleep? Vintage nuzzled further into the pillow, using his arms to pull it close. 

He was so close to falling asleep, but the soft creek of his door opening and closing made him sit up. He recognized the footsteps walking over to his desk as Omega’s. She flipped on the light at his desk, making Vintage shield his eyes from the unexpected brightness.

“Vin.” He felt the bed next to him sink down under the weight of a new person. 

“What?” He responded, his voice harsher than anticipated. Vintage finally removed his pale hands from his eyes, turning to his sister. She was looking straight ahead, studying the wall of trophies and medals they had won together. “What do you need?”

She took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving the wall. “I need to talk to you.”

Vintage raised an eyebrow, repositioning so he was sitting cross-legged instead of half-laying down. “What?” He echoed, but his voice was slightly softer. The voice reserved for his sister and his sister only. 

Omega turned to face him, her perfectly straight tentacles flying across her shoulder. Vintage’s expression almost changed once he saw the tears glistening in her eyes, but he managed to keep himself in control. “Mega?” 

“Vin, it has to stop,” She demanded, her voice raw with emotion. 

“What?”

“The Ranked, constantly having to be at the top, the need to prove to everyone that you’re better than them!” She stared at him, her eyes shining. “It all has to stop.”

Vintage’s eyebrows scrunched with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not healthy, Vin!” She cried, throwing her hands into the air.

He was speechless. In the twenty years he had known Omega, he could count on one hand how many times he had seen her cry. The first was when their father drank himself to death, the second when their mother had killed herself out of grief, and the third was when they broke off with Aviators and Skull. She was the toughest person he had ever known, and here she was, crying over her little brother.

“Omega, you know what I have to do-”

“You don’t have to do this Vin!” Omega stood, she was already two inches taller than him standing, and he hated how she towered over him now. “You spend fourteen hours a day battling for what? A petty rank?!”

Vintage felt as if he was hit in the chest with a freight train. He had always assumed that their status as X was as important to his teammates as it was to him. “This rank is the only thing-”

“It’s not!” Omega interrupted him yet again. “Vintage, a letter doesn’t define you. You don’t have to constantly be over exhausting yourself over this. I can see it in your eyes Vin, you’re shutting down. A-And-” A sob cut her sentence short. “It’s tearing me apart to watch you do this to yourself!”

Vintage had no idea what to do. His mouth hung open, wanting to talk to his sister, wanting to reach forward and wipe the tears out of her eyes, but no. He couldn’t.

She closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed, a few tears slipping out from under her eyelids. Her lip quivered as she took another shaky breath. “And you can’t even let down your guard for me...” She muttered, her voice barely a whisper. Vintage felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Guilt.

He was the cause of her suffering. She was breaking down inside and Vintage had been so caught up in maintaining his status as X, he had been too blind to notice it. He was hurting Omega. 

Vintage stared at Omega. 

She was his best friend, his co-captain, and his older sister all at the same time. “Don’t let them ever know what’s really going on. That’s when they get the upper hand.” His father’s words rattled around the X-Blood’s brain once more.

And for the first time in his life, Vintage ignored his father’s words. The two-toned Ballpoint main leaned forward, wrapping his thin but muscled arms around his crying sister. Her back went stiff at the sudden contact, but she then softened and leaned into him. Omega moved herself so she could hold him better. Vintage rested his chin on her shoulder. The w-3 Tee she wore was soft under his chin. She was warm and comforting, not to mention her tentacles smelled like coconut from her shampoo. Vintage loved the smell of coconut.

“Please don’t do this to you. To me, Vin,” She whispered in his ear. “It’s tearing me apart to watch you do this to yourself.”

“...”

“Vin, you’re the only family I have left. I-I can’t lose you too.”

“...”

“Vin?”

Omega pulled away. Vintage’s eyes were closed, his lips tightly shut, his head tilted down, letting his hair shield his eyes. His arms were still placed on her torso. He took a shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes to look into Omega’s. A few tears fell from Vintage’s eyes. He went to wipe them away with his sleeve, but his sister beat him to it. Her soft fingers swept the drops off his cheeks.

“Vin?”

Vintage pulled her back in. Omega made a small “oof” when their bodies collided, but didn’t hesitate to hold him close.

“Mega?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

It was as if somebody had grabbed her lungs and squeezed all the air out of it. Those three small words, words she hadn’t heard from him in years, made everything in the world feel better. She held Vintage tighter, burying her face into his nylon windbreaker. 

“I love you too, Vin,” She answered, her voice slightly cracking. “Nothing will ever change that.”

And that was all Vintage needed to hear. It felt as if the taught ties that bound him to his pride as an X-Rank were cut. He felt relief flood him as he held his sister. He finally felt that it was okay to be vulnerable, that it was okay to be weak. Omega was his family. Omega would always love him no matter what. 

“Are we having a hug party?!” A shrill voice made Vintage and Omega leap away from each other. Double and Red had snuck up on them, the siblings too caught up in emotions to hear the door opening.

“Hell yeah!” Double exclaimed, launching himself on the bed, taking Omega down with him. Red giggled and leaped onto the mattress. Vintage grumbled but didn’t object when the Bloblobber main pushed him down next to Omega. 

The siblings shared a glance as their teammates wrapped their arms around them, pulling them into a four-person hug. A small smile tugged at the corners of Vintage’s lips, a tear rolled out of his eye but he was quick to wipe it up. 

Omega laughed and offered a large smile, it was the first one Vintage had seen in years.

He happily returned it.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!
> 
> In case you were wondering about the "kids" reference when they were talking about Avi, I headcanon that Avi is a foster dad to twin boys. Omega is his go-to babysitter cuz they're still kinda close. I'll write about them later in time.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and kudos keep me motivated! :DD


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